


Masquerade

by LiteralPeiceOfTrash



Series: Masquerade balls [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: I'll add more as I go, Kinda, M/M, Masquerade Ball, Phantom of the Opera AU, Songfic, Swearing, This is my first fanfic so bear with me, but there's a masquerade, edd is rich, matt wears a dress, not really but its based off a song, theres no phantom or opera, they're roomates, tom gets all the ladies, tord is awkward, watch out for that chandelier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9901004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteralPeiceOfTrash/pseuds/LiteralPeiceOfTrash
Summary: MasqueradePaper faces on displayEdd is becomes an extremely rich artist, and decides to throw a masquerade ball! But what will happen when Tord starts falling for a 'stranger', when he assumes he'll never see again.MasqueradeHide your face so the world will never find you





	1. Chapter One.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fanfic, so please bear with me! I got the idea for this fic from the song Masquerade from Phantom of the Opera. If you don't know what that is, go check it out. Here's a link to the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Bn4BAlp8NQ

“A masquerade ball, huh?”

Tord stared at the off white letter with a gold border and pale green lettering. He knew that his excitable friend loved social gathers, but a ball? A masquerade, nonetheless. Tord figured he had much better things to do than go to some silly dance. Still, it did sound interesting. A room full of friends and strangers, all unrecognizable, due to elaborate masks and costumes.

“Ah, you got one too?”

A voice startled Tord out of his thoughts. He spun around and saw his black-eyed roommate looking over his shoulder to read the letter. He scoffed, but felt his face start to heat up at how incredibly close Tom was standing. 

“Good morning to you too.” He responded dryly, shoving Tom away from him. “And of course I got one too. Edd is my friend as much as he is yours.”

Tom just shrugged and walked towards the fridge, presumably to get Smirnoff. Tord never approved of his friend’s alcohol addiction, but never voiced his concern. 

“Are you going?” Tom asked, not evening turning to face him. The asshole was downing a bottle a Smirnoff, earning an exasperated eye roll from Norwegian. 

“Maybe, it sounds interesting.” Tord replied, looking back down at the paper. “What about you?”

“Probably not, I’m not one for “social gatherings”.”

Tord hummed in acknowledgement, scanning over the cursive writing as his gray eyes fell over the words ‘masquerade ball’.

“Why do you think he decided to make it a masquerade?” Tord questioned, curiosity lacing his voice, but more talking to himself than the blue clad man in front of him.

“Dunno. That man has more money than he knows what to do with.” Tom took a swig of Smirnoff before heading out of the room. 

\---

A week later, Tord found himself standing in front of the opera house downtown. He wore a black suit with a blood-red bow tie and a crimson cape. A black Colombina mask, decorated with a few small red jewels and swirls covered the top half of his face, hiding only the area around his eyes. His gray eyes flashed behind the mask; it was somewhat difficult to see, making him feel vulnerable and uncomfortable. His hair had even been slicked back, the lack of ‘horns’ on his head making him less recognizable. He knew it made him stand out in any normal scenario, but he couldn’t care less. Costumes and masks were part of the idea of a masquerade ball, right? Everyone would be looking strange. 

Tord looked up at the opera house. Its white pillars extended the tip of the roof of the grand building to seemingly touch the night sky. The opera house was called Royal something-or-other; Tord couldn’t be bothered to remember the name. Wispy clouds barely covered the stars in the murky sky. Tord would much rather be wandering the streets in silence or be working in his lab rather than dance in an overcrowded room of unfamiliar faces.

While he contemplated turning a walking away, a short figure had approached him. Looking down, he saw his childhood friend and the affluent party host, Edd. He sported an emerald colored suit and a white tie, with a gold mask that covered almost his entire face, leaving only his mouth and eyes visible. The mask seemed to shimmer, and one could mistake it for pure gold. Now, if it were actually pure gold, Edd would hardly be able to stand, due to the weight. Tord almost had to shield his eyes when looking at Edd in the face, the mask was unnaturally bright.

“You made it” The stout man cried gleefully, actually surprised his mostly antisocial friend had decided to show his face. Or not, his mask kept him mostly unidentified.  
“Yes, it is good to see you, Edd.” Tord forced a wide grin, secretly wishing he could be at home, working on some new experiment. 

“Is Tom coming?” Edd inquired, impatiently bouncing from one foot to another. He could hardly stand still when there was a party full of people inside. 

“I doubt it, the asshole seems to think he has better things to do than come to your party.” Tord scoffed, remembering how his roommate had totally blown him off that morning. And Tord had actually considered jokingly taking him as his date. Key word: jokingly. The red Norwegian would never like the Brit like that, right?

“Oh,” disappointment laced his friend’s voice, snapping him back into reality. “Well, why are we just standing outside? Come on, the ball has already started!” The Norski almost fell flat on his face when the young host grabbed his wrist and dragged him through the front doors.

Tord audibly gasped when he entered the house. The seats had all been moved, replaced by a sleek wood floor, level with the stage. The room was filled with laughs and voices all around, engulfed in conversations. Puce, Aegean, and scarlet dresses twirled as woman danced, and raven, mahogany, and pearl suits stood out in the bright room. Masks of all sorts of shape and color covered every face, leaving only strangers. The room itself was a bright ruby red, gold railings and decorations blending in nicely. An Orchestra could be heard in the background of the drifting conversations, the lively yet sophisticated music creating a rhythmic melody that many danced to. 

When Tord had finally torn his eyes away from the spectacular sight, he found Edd had slipped away, supposedly to talk to new arrivals. Not wanting to search for him, he set off on his own. 

Allowing his eyes search the sea of people, taking in the bright colors and joyful smiles, he could recognize a few people. Matt was easy to find, it was obvious he didn’t fully understand the meaning of the ball; his mask covered only a fraction of his face. Of course Matt would want people to see his face. He also seemed to be wearing a lavender gown, with a jade green sash around his midsection. His comrades Pau and Pat were dancing together, Pat detectable amongst the crowd due to his signature wing-like bangs. 

Tord almost considered finding someone to dance with, but decided against it, and walking over to one side of the room alone. He stood with his back against the wall, watching the sea of people. 

Suddenly, specks of spinning colors came to a halt. Few people all across the room stopped, all directing their gaze to the front, where a new stranger stood, alone.


	2. Chapter Two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First meetings never go Tord's way. Fortunately, it seems he made a good impression. Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a filler chapter, but more of a 'first meetings' type thing. Also, please ignore any grammatical errors. I wrote this one relatively quickly, so it probably won't be as good as the last.

The thing about masquerade balls is that you will never see these people again.

If Tord had thought that at all that evening, it wasn’t holding him back from approaching the stranger. 

Their mask was white, except for royal blue swirls and gems. It seemed to shimmer ever-so-slightly, the light from the new overhanging chandelier reflecting off it. They had a black suit, and an outline of blue roses covered it. The stranger had black dress shoes, but the base around the bottom was checkered black and white. He had light brown hair slicked back. His tie was blue, heck; everything about him seemed to be black or blue. He could even rival Tom. Tord chuckled at the thought; half wishing the Brit was here before shaking his head. He hates Tom! He’s glad he isn’t here!

One thing Tord noticed though was that he couldn’t see his eyes. Either he was too far away, or the mask on the stranger was causing some shadowy effect and making it look like they were black. Whatever the case was, Tord didn’t care. He might as well go ahead and talk to them.

After all, he’ll never see them again, so why not?

He took a step forward, but as he did, about three different girls all raced forward to engage in conversation with the stranger... Of course. He was attractive, and probably straight. He would be more interested in dancing and flirting with all the ladies than he would talking to Tord.

Tord sighed, giving up. The stranger was now talking to a short girl in a jade gown, covered in ruffles. Her dark, curly hair bounced as she giggled at everything he said. Feeling downhearted, he turned away to go talk to someone else. Little did he know, the stranger had lost interest in the girl and had his eyes glued to Tord.

Looking around, Tord spotted Matt again. Every time Tord looked at him, he had to do a double take. His dress truly made him stand out, yet somehow, it suited him more than a boring suit would. He looked sad, and with a closer look, Tord noticed a few girls awkwardly walking the opposite direction of him. Chuckling, he approached the tall ginger, tapping him on the shoulder. Letting out a startled squeak, Matt turned around.

“Who goes there?” Matt shouted, confused, before looking down at Tord. Tord wasn’t exactly short, it’s just Matt happened to be one of the tallest people in the room. One of the tallest people in any room he walked into, in fact.

“Hello, Matt.” Tord greeted, a large grin still on his face.

“Who are you? And how do you know my name? Are you magic?!” Matt asked, wonder sparkling in his eyes. He had entirely forgotten about the girls. Tord rolled his eyes at Matt’s sudden mood change.

“It’s me, Tord. And I am not magic; your mask doesn’t hide your face.” Tord replied, matter-of-factly. He stifled a giggle, Matt’s cluelessness distracting him from his failed attempt to talk to the new guy.

“Oh hey Todd!” The bubbly ginger either didn't hear or didn't pay attention to Tord's comment about his mask, because he didn't seem offended in the least. In fact, he almost seemed proud that people recognized his beautiful face.

“It’s Tord- never mind.” Tord sighed. Matt is never going to get his name right, is he?

“Hey Todd, I think someone wants to talk to you.” Matt remarked, looking over Tord’s shoulder. Turning around, Tord saw him. The stranger from earlier. Walking towards HIM. Tord’s heart started beating faster, threatening to burst out of his chest, but he took a deep breath and stood up straighter.

“Um… Hi” The man greeted awkwardly. Tord wanted to melt on the spot when he heard him speak. He was normally very composed and charming, causing everyone he wished to swoon. But this man was different, and made him feel helpless. His voice was deep and smooth with a British accent, full of unintentional charm, unlike Tom’s. Tom’s voice was obnoxious and cracked all the time. Or was it smooth, and Tord wasn’t paying attention? Wait, why was he thinking about Tom again?! He has this beautiful stranger all to himself and the only thing he’s thinking about is his annoying roommate. 

Snapping back to reality, Tord replied back. “Hello!” He cringed slightly at a crack in his voice, he sounded way to overly excited, but the Brit only laughed. Tord couldn’t help but stare in smile; it was the most adorable laugh he had ever heard. It started low and quiet, like a hesitant chuckle, but grew louder, causing you to feel warmer inside, and see beyond his upfront, tough exterior. Tord felt his cheeks grow red, but he immediately blamed it on embarrassment. I mean, who likes being laughed at? He can't be falling for this guy, he just can't! Tord Larsin did not form crushes. Still, this guy was pretty cute...

Then he saw it. His eyes. They were completely black. An empty void containing mystery and wonder, Tord wouldn’t but continue to stare in absolute awe. It was absurd to think, but they looked hollow, like you could reach your hand in and never touch anything. They almost seemed to absorb all the light around and in them, like two black holes. If Tord hadn’t known that was basically impossible, he would’ve thought they were actually black holes. 

“…llo? You there?” A sudden voice pulled Tord out of his trance. The stranger was waving a hand in front of his face, obviously trying to get his attention. A light blush covered his face, and Tord realized he must’ve looked like a creep staring at him. 

“Ah! Faen! I am sorry! I zoned out, I did not mean to stare at you.” He stuttered quickly, his thick accent probably making it hard for the other to understand. Mentally face palming, he could feel his own face growing redder by the second, until it was as red as his cape. He wished he could just sink into the floor and curl up and die, never to be seen again. 

The stranger just chuckled and winked. “Don’t worry, its fine. It’s cute watching you get flustered anyways.”

This didn’t make Tord feel any better. In fact, it only made his blush deepen. His insides danced, and he felt glued to the floor, trapped under the gaze of the other. Again, he passed this off as merely being embarrassed. He had never felt this embarrassed in his life! It’s a damn good thing he’d never see them again. He’s not sure if he would be able to live with a constant reminder of how awkward he is. Then again, he had Tom not remind him of that.

“Why are your eyes black?” He asked, in a feeble attempt to change the topic. “They look very… exotic.”

The other man visibly tensed up at the mention of his eyes. Tord winced. He had one job, and he had gone and screwed it up by making the stranger uncomfortable. “…Contacts. I thought they looked cool, and tonight seemed like a good time to wear them.” He answered calmly, but Tord could tell he did not want to talk about it. Odd, but he didn’t want to scare them away by pestering them with questions.

“Oh, well, they look cool, I guess.” Wow. ‘I guess’? How rude.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from? You have an accent, and I’m curious.” 

Tord smiled at the change in topic. “Norway, actually!” He replied brightly, always excited to talk about his home country. The atmosphere instantly lightened, for Tord at least. Finally, he could speak about something without tripping over his words or messing up his chances with the blue stranger.

“That’s cool, that accent just reminded me of someone I know, so I had to ask.” The stranger nodded slowly, as if thinking of the person as he spoke.

“D-do you like this person..?” Tord asked, his face draining of color slightly. What if this person was his boyfriend and he was taken? Or even worse, his girlfriend, and he wasn’t even interested in guys?!

“To be honest, I’m not sure. They pester me 24/7, and seem to have nothing better to do than make fun of me. But they’re hilarious, and charming, and just ugh. I don’t know.” The blue stranger looked away, shaking his head. He always seemed to be thinking, or observing. Tord liked this about him. 

“I know what it’s like. I have a roommate who is absolutely infuriating, but somehow, I still consider him almost to be a friend.” Tord smiled sympathetically. Normally, he would have laughed at the Brit, no matter how hot he is, but they seemed to really understand each other. Kinda.

The Brit smiled, extending his hand. “Well, um, do you want to dance..?” He seemed unsure while asking, as if he was struggling to work up the courage to ask. Tord stood there in shock, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

It was official, Tord Larsin has fallen for this man.

“S-sure! Yeah!” Tord beamed, happily accepting his hand, and pulling him out into the crowd of flashing and spinning colors, excitement soaring through him, making him feel lightheaded. He didn’t even he the blue man’s face burn with a blush as strong as a fire. 

Turning back around, Tord grabbed the other's waist and hand, pulling him into the synchronized waltz with the rest of the crowd. Both of their awkward blushes slowly turned into a subtle, light pink coat over their face. Tuning out the rest of the party, they only focused on each other, and not stepping on the other’s feet. The freshly polished hardwood floor glittered underneath their feet as they joined the rest of the guests in dance. The opposing colors somehow blended, and anyone looking in on the outside would think they had shown up together, coordinating their outfits and everything, they looked so natural together out there. Everything was truly perfect.

They were so lost in the dance, they didn’t even hear a loud snap and clunk from above, and didn’t notice the gently sway of the chandelier above them. 

Because after all, you might never see these people again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you for reading this again! I am not sure if every chapter will be updated this fast, but right now I am on break, which has given me the time to write. Speaking of chapters, I am hoping for this fanfic to get around 5 chapters in all? I also have plans for one-shots, so if you guys really enjoy my writing, I will try to put my ideas into writing. You can also follow me on tumblr at @sun-shine-lolli-pops, where I will probably post my fanfics and updates on when these will be posted and where I am in making the next ones. I also am putting this fanfic on Wattpad. My Wattpad is @SecretlyASnake, so there's another place where you can read it if you prefer those platforms over this one. Really sorry about this little self-promo, I'll just go now. Until the next chapter, bye!


	3. Chapter Three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything goes to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short, and took so long to write. I am really unsatisfied with how this turned out, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Heat. That was just one of the many words to describe what the two men were feeling. It felt as if time had slowed, the people around them moving in slow-motion. The only place they were looking was into each other’s eyes. It had hardly been five minutes, yet to Tord, it felt like hours. The music was just a low hum in the background of their cheesy romance. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony with each other, Tord taking one step forward when the other stepped back, the his blue clad crush spinning him carefully with a cheesy grin, watching out to not step on the crimson cape which swept the floor. The blue Brit’s arms were wrapped around his waist now, Tord putting his own arms around his neck.

Suddenly their faces started inching towards each other. Tord’s blush grew so great; he felt his face would burn right off. Eyes closed, they were just centimeters apart.

Until they weren’t.

Suddenly, Tord felt the Brit pull away. Opening his eyes in confusion, he noticed the blue man has frozen entirely. He was poised, refined, and Tord couldn’t help but stare. But something was wrong. They wore a small frown, as if deep in thought. “Hey, what’s wro-“ Tord started, but was swiftly cut off.

“Shh. Listen.” The blue Brit gently grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the way of the other dancers. Everyone seemed so carefree and happy, why the hell was he acting like this now?

But Tord allowed himself to be pulled from the lively music’s trance. They silently made their way halfway up the grand marble staircase with the red carpet, the staircase across from the stage that split halfway up into two different staircases leading two different directions. Few people stood up here, engaged in small talk, eluding the crowd. Tord’s hand brushed the frigid gold railing as the stranger led him up a few steps. 

“Hey, what’s going on-“ 

“SHHHH. Listen!” The Brit glared, shushing him again. Tord couldn’t help but feel taken aback. What has gotten into his usually calm and collected crush? Something seriously didn’t feel right. Still, Tord obeyed, directing his gaze towards the dancers. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just people enjoying themselves. Dancing, waltzing, talking, drinking, everyone was in pure bliss. If anything, it just made the Norski want to go back there with the blue Brit even more. Looking closer, he saw that somehow, Matt had dragged Edd away from the guests and was trying to get him to dance. Edd kept trying to cover his already covered face and pull away, earning a small chuckle from the red clad man. Pau and Pat were still out there too. 

As Tord began to turn and reassure his crush that there was nothing wrong, he finally saw it: The chandelier. It was rocking back and forth, giving off a quiet, yet shrill squeak. It was swinging ever-so-gently, as if two unseen forces were pushing it back and forth in a careful game of tetherball. One of the lights attached flicked, causing a glare on the gold chain which kept the massive light fixture hoisted in the air. The gold chain itself, despite being new, had a fair layer of rust covering some of the gilt. Other than the rust and the sway, the chain and the chandelier looked perfectly fine.

Tord turned back to the Brit. “The chandelier. It’s swaying, but that’s all. It’s fine, don’t worry.” He placed a hand gently on his shoulder, trying to calm the paranoid man in front of him.

Before the Brit could protest, or Tord could offer anymore comfort, a loud creak was heard from above. It was low, and confusion coated both of their faces. Although the music stayed, several people stopped mid conversation and froze, wondering what caused that sound. The room got a noticeable chill as the atmosphere clearly dropped, leaving a foreboding one of apprehension and dread. Tord felt a hand protectively wrapped around his. The blue and black clad man had instinctively grabbed his hand, unaware of his actions as his focus was pinpointed on the chandelier. It was swaying even more now. The flickering light from before has gone out, along with many of the others. Several of the tons of working lights were flickering like mad. Now everyone had directed their attention to the currently freaking out light above them. 

“What the fu-“

Tord couldn’t even finish his sentence when the creak was followed by a menacing snap. The rocking had stopped. The lights weren’t flickering anymore; they’d all gone out. The chandelier was falling, and it was falling fast. And this wasn’t like one of those cliché moments, where everything slows down. In fact, everything seemed to speed up. The chandelier seemed to be falling more rapidly than a chandelier its size should. It was falling almost as fast as the feeling of dread fell and burrowed into the pit of his stomach. The sinking feeling only grew, paralyzing him, gluing his feet to the ground and his arms to his side. His eyes were glazed with fear and shock, his ears numb to the screams and shrieks and screeches around him. He didn’t even feel the cold touch of the blue Brit as he dragged him up the stairs and down an unknown hallway. His feet were moving, just allowing him to stumble in the directions he was pulled. 

He didn’t even hear the crash of the thousands of shaped glass and light bulbs as it smashed to the floor, causing shards of glass to ricochet in every direction, showering everyone in the room in glass. He didn’t smell the smoke as it billowed up, blanketing the ceiling and exits while people scurried out. He didn’t feel the heat from the fire as it danced across the wood floors and up the gold painted pillars.

He didn’t feel himself black out as he was dragged the opposite direction of the doors to safety by the blue Brit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Yes, shit just got real, I'm sorry. I'm also sorry this took forever to write, I've been plagued by writer's block, and I've been busy as well. This chapter isn't as good, and I was sorta rushed as well. I've been wanting to finish this for so long, and I hope you all enjoy!


	4. Chapter Four.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honesty, did anyone ever expect these two opposites to get along, even for ten minutes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive! Salutations!

Soft footsteps pattered against cold cobblestone floors. Puddles sloshed and splashed as a man, clad in a black silk suit with blue roses dashed down the halls aimlessly. An attempt to escape the flickering flames of the ballroom, which was well away by now. Now he was just running to find a safe and secure spot to set down the unconscious man in his arms. His heart beat rapidly, two thumps for every step. The dangers and misfortunes weren’t completely gone yet.  
Suddenly, the man sporting red and a crimson cape stirred. Opening his eyes, he was unable to figure out where the hell he was. Beige walls, scored with mildew and moss, scratched and shiny, surrounded them. Water dripped from ceiling, pooling on dips in the floor. The ceiling was just high enough so the man who was carrying him’s hair was just brushing the roof. His cape was awkwardly draped around hi-

Wait. Someone was carrying him.

Twisting around in shock, Tord almost slapped the man, ultimately falling onto the floor, wrapped and trapped in his cape. His head landed in a murky, gray puddle, soaking his hair and earning a groan of frustration. Futile struggling ensued, dignity falling with each passing second.

“Dude, what the hell??” an annoyed voice hissed from behind him. Looking up, he saw the beautiful Brit from before. The tips of his hair were damp and drooped slightly, due to the dew on the ceiling. His face was smudged with soot and ash, while blood trickled down his face from a small cut as slow as molasses. Indignation covered his face, but it was forced; he wasn’t truly mad.

“Sorry… I panicked.” The Norski mumbled. An embarrassed blush spread across his face. Glancing away, he internally yelled at himself. How could be so stupid in front of his crush??? Will he never learn??

Suddenly, something flashed in front of his face. Looking back up at the Brit, he saw a hand extended towards him, an offer to help him up. He graciously took his hand and was pulled up to his feet. A smiled danced on both of their faces, just staring at each other. An awkward silence hung between them. Until the Brit across from him frowned, pulling his hand away from Tord’s. “What’s wrong?”

“Your hair…”

“What?” Tord subconsciously reached up and patted the top of his head. Soft horn-like tufts stuck up naturally, all the gel holding them back washed out. Quickly masking shock with a nonchalant expression, he waved it off. “What, you honestly think after what’s happened today my hair would stay perfect? Come on, let’s find a way out of here.”

Tord brushed past the Brit, glancing over his shoulder as an indication for him to follow. Walking down the oddly foreboding hall, he put on a tough face and tried not to scream like a girl. The cobwebs hung low from the ceiling, brushing against you, dropping tiny spiders onto your clothes and down your back. They scuttled harmlessly yet dreadfully across your skin and through your hair. The shiver you felt wasn’t just from the cold. 

“Holy popcorn in a cola factory!” 

A sudden yelp from behind startled the red clad man, causing him to turn around in surprise and concern, only to relax slightly when he saw his comrade wrestling the cobwebs tangled in his hair. The silver strings were almost woven into his tawny locks. He released the breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He thought something bad had happened, that he had been hurt or in some sort of trouble.

Wait, that dramatic outburst sounded oddly familiar. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” The Brit spat back, obviously not in the mood for any friendly banter. He desperately clawed the cobwebs out of his hair, frustration lacing his voice. Finally, he succeeded, earning a triumphant grin.

“No, I mean what did you just say?” Tord sighed, exasperated.

“Does it matter?” The blue counterpart smirked, before this time pushing past Tord. Something was off with him. The way the Brit walked held fake confidence, his steps faltered every so often. He didn’t entirely seem focused; his head was in the clouds, lost in thought. He bore the same distant expression as before the chandelier fell. Always thinking, always poised. 

“…the fuck?”

“Oh, what now?” Tord groaned, pacing over, dragging his feet. Black scuff mark squeaked as they stained the floor. He stopped beside the Brit, and found himself facing a huge body of water, like a small lake in the middle of a dreary cavern. The water wasn’t dirty like the rest of the water. It seemed the glisten with an absent moonlight, ripples caused by a nonexistent breeze. An eerie mist floated above water, making their reflections blur and mix, the red and blue becoming one. Both boys were transfixed, the water seemed to hold some answer to some secret, or the solution to an unvoiced problem. They were both desperate to know, they both wanted answers. 

Finally, the Norski snapped out of it. He looked back up at the Brit, contempt filling the air. “Great, you lead us to a dead end.” Today had just been too much for him. First, he has to go to Edd’s stupid party. Then, he has to fall for some stupid stranger. Then, he and all his friends almost die because of motherfucking faulty light fixtures! Now, he’s kidnapped into what looks like the sewers and stuck arguing in front of an ominous lake. Tord just wanted to go home, bickering with Tom would be better than this!

“I didn’t mean to! It’s your fault for passing out like a wuss when the chandelier fell, otherwise I wouldn’t have had to drag you here and we could have gone out the doors like any sane people!” The Brit’s voice grew louder with every word, Tord’s frustration leeching off to him. This wasn’t any better for the Brit, he just wanted a nice night out without having to worry about his roommate pestering him but this stranger had to go and put both of their lives in danger! Arguing with his roommate would be better than this.

“You could have, I dunno, carried me the opposite direction, mister Prince Charming! Or are you all looks and no brain?” The compliment was unintentional, but the sneer left a tension so thick, not even a knife would be able to cut it. Tord’s face twisted into spiteful leer, daring the Brit in front of him to challenge him.

 

“Well, you know what?” Rage smothered the roar

 

“What???”

 

 

The Brit closed the space between them, kissing Tord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm am so sorry this took so long, I wrote this in several rushed portions littered aimlessly around the past few weeks. My life has started to become hectic again, causing me to lose all motivation to draw and write. I hope you enjoy this, it is short but it is okay. I am eternally grateful for all the love and support I received in the last two chapters, thank you all so much. Also, The oneshot y'all voted on was put out, titled I Am Damaged, and I highly suggest reading it; its one of my better works.   
> Bye!


	5. Chapter Five.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending of an era

The Brit closed the space between them, kissing Tord.  
\---  
His lips were chapped, rough, but perfect. They tasted like alcholol, was that Smirnoff? They tasted like cereal, like pills from rough hangovers, like the salty breeze by the ocean shore. He made his heart feel like someone took a rope and tied up his heart in an attempt to suffocate him. He felt like someone was attempting to slowly dig a knife through that same heart. He felt the Brit who was kissing him had temporarily lifted the weight off of his shoulders, allowing him to breathe. It was perfect.  
\---  
His lips were smooth, as if he smothered them in Chap Stick almost every day of his life. He seemed to take decent care of himself. Much better than the Brit did to himself. His lips tasted like cinnamon and a mix of other spices. They tasted like smoke and cigar ashes. They left a bittersweet metallic taste on his own lips. He felt like his heart was going to explode, he felt if he stayed any longer, his heart would give out, but he didn’t want to pull away. He wanted to stay safe and secure like this as long as he could.  
\---  
Tord was in total bliss. His arms wrapped around the Brit’s waist while the Brit’s travelled around his neck. Hands ran through his honey brown hair as the Norski pulled him closer, their chests almost touching. Tord smiled, and he could feel the other smirk. Almost ready to take it further, unaware of how slippery the sleek floor of the corridor was. 

The Brit could feel The Norski subtly slipping forward, obviously not on purpose, and took a step back to balance them. But in doing this, he stepped in a puddle and slipped backwards. His feet jerked out from underneath him and he felt himself flying backwards. In a desperate flailing attempt to catch himself, he grabbed the front of the Norski’s shirt and pulled him down with him into the nebulous waters of the cavern’s lake. 

Water enclosed the space around him, and the still waters pulled the two apart. Fresh water seeped through the fabric of Tord’s closed and temporarily blinded him. He could hear the water rush past his ears as he was pulled down and could feel his body temperature slowly lowering. What he didn’t feel, though, was the mask adorning his face being pulled off, swallowed by the misty reservoir. 

Suddenly, the lack of oxygen in his lungs struck him, and he flailed his arms until he was able to propel himself upwards, breaking the surface of the lake and spitting out the water clogging his throat. He sputtered and coughed, as he rubbed his eyes, attempting to regain his vision. 

“Tord?!”

A shocked voice shouted his name from behind in front of him. Blinking, he looked up in surprise? How could they know his name, he was wearing a mask? And even if they could see past it, how did they know who it was? Besides, the only deep voiced, alcohol smelling, argumentative British male he knew was-

Wait…

“Tom?!?!”

Opening his eyes, a blurry image of a short, lanky, tawny haired man with void eyes that absorbed light yet seemed to glitter themselves. His suit clung to his thin frame and his hands brushed his hair out of his face. His mask was absent, betraying a look of astonishment and horror. The Norski figured he must look the same, and his hand only touching his bare face confirmed that the mask was long gone. 

But Tom said he wasn’t coming! He said he had better things to do, right? But does that mean Tord had been transfixed with, not a stranger, but Tom when he walked through the doors? Does that mean he spent his night dancing and flirting with his abhorrent roommate? Does that mean Tom had saved him from the fire, and Tom fought with his over the petty topic of going the wrong direction? Does that mean Tom kissed him?

Not that he didn’t enjoy it,-

“I-I thought you said y-you weren’t coming..!!!”

“And I came anyways.” Tom’s response was calm, but his face still held surprise and he was trembling, either from the cold or from horror of kissing his enemy and enjoying it. Probably both.

“Where did you even get your outfit?!” Tord asked before he could even register the one place either of them knew to get a costume like that.

“Matt.” They both said at the same time.

Suddenly, Tom sloshed out of the reservoir and onto the sleek floors of the tunnels passages. He refused to face Tord and started walking away, shaking. His arms were wrapped around himself, but untimently failed to stop his trembling. To Tom, this was all too much to take in all at once.

“Tom, wait!”

He stopped, but didn’t turn around. Not yet.

“I… don’t hate you.”

“Wow, thanks commie.” The sarcastic reply and sadistic nickname were almost instantaneous. 

“No, I mean, I never have. You’ve been annoying, yes, and a nuisance, of course, but tolerant. But you’ve always been funny and witty and I can even agree with you! I know I start arguments a lot, but I don’t mean them. I… I’ve been wrong! I admit it, I was wrong. About you. Every time. Your stupid smile stays in head all day, my heartbeats faster the closer you get to me, and I had to bite down a blush whenever I saw you. I guess I couldn’t tell you to your face, and recognized all the qualities of you in the stranger I met tonight, even though it literally happened to be you, and was only able to admit it to someone without having to really face them.”

Tom sighed. He felt the same. Tord wasn’t bad, and he never hated him. He just never thought about loving him. But what he said about not being able to tell the other and telling it to someone with the same traits who they’d presumably never see again really did strike him. It hit home, and he felt the same. He did love Tord all along; his stupid smirk, his thick accent, how he’d switch into his mother tongue whenever Tom frightened him. Everything.

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

Tord spun around, kissing him softly. It was chaste and genuine. 

“I love you.”

 

 

 

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHH I FINALLY FINISHED IT! After chapter four was released, I knew I just had to finish this while I had the inspiration (and the time). I am sorry if this feels rushed, and I will probably come back to this and fix mistakes that I find necessary to fix. Thank you so much for all the support you've left me, for all the comments, for all the votes, and for all the reads. I am so unbelievably grateful. I couldn't have done this without you all supporting me all the way through. 
> 
> Until next time,  
> LiteralPeiceOfTrash
> 
> Or just Trash. Preferably just Trash, LiteralPeiceOfTrash is too long.


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